


I Will Wait

by TiredMinds



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredMinds/pseuds/TiredMinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A romance one-shot fluff for Myrcella Baratheon and Robb Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Wait

She was the only daughter, and the middle child of King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Cersei Lannister, was her mother. Queen Regent, Lady Paramount of the Westerlands and the Lady of Casterley Rock. Both of her parents had very impressive titles, and Myrcella knew from a very young age that she was to do what she was told, and that she had to play the part of the dutiful daughter, so she would not bring her family shame.  _You are a Lannister of Casterley Rock and you are to behave accordingly,_ her grandfather’s words had frightened her once, when all she had wanted was another lemon cake. _You are to be desirable when you come of age, so that a good match can be arranged for you when the time comes,_ Tywin had lectured her. _There are no fat Lannisters._ Myrcella was only a girl of one and ten, and she often stayed quiet as she watched those around her with keen Lannister green eyes, her mother’s eyes, and because of whom her parents were, Myrcella was exposed to an array of different and interesting characters among court in Kings Landing. A sheltered life she had lived compared to some, and though she had never really known hardship as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, she still saw things and learnt from beneath her mother’s broken wings.

However, beneath Cersei’s wings was also Myrcella’s eldest brother, Joffrey. Her mother was blind to his wickedness and never protected Myrcella or the youngest Prince, Tommen, from their older brother. No matter what she told her mother, Cersei never disciplined Joffrey, and Myrcella soon learnt to keep Joffrey’s cruelness to herself when he pulled her hair, pushed her into the wall of her chambers and told her how he was their Mother’s favourite, and if Myrcella were to speak of what he did to her, it would only get worse for she and Tommen both. As they got older, Joffrey’s cruelness only worsened, and when Myrcella tried to fight back, her pleas were the only thing that could save her, as one day she managed to get the attention of their uncle, Ser Jaime, who put an end of Joffrey’s behaviour and promised Myrcella that he would try his hardest to put as much distance possible between the two, within the Red Keep at least. It was then that Myrcella learned that as a woman, she would always be on the receiving end of that kind of torment, if not from her brother, then her future husband, and no matter how far away they sent her, Myrcella knew she would never be free, and she would not always her sweet uncle Jaime to protect her.

Nevertheless, her uncle Jaime surprised her when Myrcella had found a note from him in her chambers, the note told the Princess to meet her uncle in one of the courtyards of the red keep. Besides the note was a small package wrapped in brown paper, and when she unwrapped it, Myrcella found a tailored pair of breeches and a white fitted tunic to wear over her small-clothes. She had an inkling that her dear uncle Jaime was going to help her defend herself at last, and she had been right. She had always had a knack for reading her uncle, not that this invitation had been particularly hard to decipher. Either way, Myrcella was grateful that Ser Jaime took time away from his duties as a Kings Guard member to train with her. _When do I get a real sword of my own? Can I be a real knight like you? I don’t want to be a Princess_ she had told him. Myrcella knew her childish requests were a stretch, but although he never said much, she knew her uncle enjoyed her foolish banter. She cherished spending those moments with him, and though she would never tell him or anyone else for that matter, she secretly wished that Jaime Lannister was her father. 

It wasn’t long after her training began, that Joffrey had become engaged to Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden. Margaery had come to court to be one of Myrcella’s ladies and she had only been in the capitol for a week before the engagement was announced – Joff was besotted with her! Myrcella knew Margaery didn’t love her brother, _gods who could besides Mother?_ But she admired Margaery’s ability to acquire what she wanted; of course she wanted to be Joffrey’s bride and future Queen, Myrcella wasn’t as daft as what others may believe. She thought that perhaps Margaery’s presence at court would not be so bad though, _perhaps when the time came, she could teach me a thing or two when it came to find a husband and make him my own._ As much as she didn’t want to leave Tommen and her uncles, she knew her place wasn’t in the Red Keep either. Unlike Margaery or her mother, the Queen, Myrcella didn’t want a crown or a throne, she wanted to build a home and have a family with an honest and honourable husband to love her and their children. She would find joy in that, and knew she would make her family proud. _That would be enough,_ she hoped.

She was one and five when some Lord had written to the King in regard to offer his son for her hand. _Piss on that,_ she heard him bellow as he looked over the letter again. _The Princess of the Seven Kingdoms can do better than a Tarly!_  Ten and five was too early for a betrothal in her mother’s eyes, but that hadn’t stopped her father or his councillors from discussing their options for the King’s daughter. That conversation Myrcella heard, when she had chased Tommen’s cat Ser Pounce, and heard the bellowing voice of Robert Baratheon from the other end of the corridor.  She recognised the voice of the Hand, Jon Arryn but she knew naught the others, as they discussed potential alliances with the North and Dorne and even Highgarden was thrown into the fold. _A second Baratheon and Tyrell marriage would strengthen the alliance_ she heard one man say. _We are already giving them a Queen, that is enough_ another voice reasoned. _Look to other regions in the Realm your grace, there are other noble families besides Highgarden._ Myrcella ran with the kitten in her arms, fleeing from her spot outside the door when she heard footsteps approaching. That night, her father joined them for dinner in her mother’s private cellar which was something he _never_ did and she had been frightened when he sat at the table, having thought that he had caught her spying that afternoon. Relief washed over her as her father declared that for his upcoming name-day, his most trusted and loyal friend, Lord Eddard Stark was coming to Kings Landing. _Of course he is coming South; Robert would never go North, not now, not after everything._

A moons turn had passed when the Lord of Winterfell arrived at Kings Landing with his children and other members of his house in tow, as well as many men in armour. Why he brought so many men, Myrcella knew naught, for there had been peace throughout the realm since her father’s reign. _Ned! You’ve got fat!_ Her father had called out to the man and hugged him, pleasantries be damned when it came to the King apparently. The Queen was disinterested as Lord Eddard addressed her, _My Queen,_ kissing her hand and his eldest son followed suit. Myrcella looked at the eldest son –who had been named after her father – Robb, who was very handsome with his auburn brown hair and bright blue eyes, she noted as he kissed her hand when he addressed her. Myrcella looked and saw how Joffrey openly gawked at Lord Eddard’s daughter Sansa, who flushed near the colour of her red hair when she saw how the Prince looked at her. Her grandfather’s words came to mind again, and she played his lecture in her mind as though he were here now and saw Joffrey’s behaviour. _You are a Lannister of Casterley Rock and you will act accordingly_. _There are no randy Lannister’s._ Though she knew that weren’t true, as there was her other uncle Tyrion, whose existence went often ignored by her mother and grandfather. Her imp uncle was never slighted though, as he loved the company of many women, whether that was one at a time or all at once. Her uncle wasn’t a picky man, and she knew that Tyrion would never openly dishonour his betrothed so publically the way Joffrey did right now.

Robert had not only invited the Stark’s for his name-day but also Mace Tyrell and his son Loras. Robert had also summoned the presence of the Martell’s – under The Hand’s persistence – that they come to the Tourney held for him, and put the bad blood of their families behind them. A raven had just been received from Doran Martell who intended to send his brother, Prince Oberyn and his son Trystane in his place, as he himself was too unwell for the trip North.

There were many new faces among court which excited her, but upon hearing her father’s conversation, she suspected why they were there which was to arrange marriages for the Crown’s children. These thoughts were what plagued her mind as she sat in the gardens, looking over the pages of her book which she had not even been reading, when she felt something brush past her legs. _What the? Oh_ had been her reaction when she was met with the face of a little wolf that sniffed at the book in her hands.

“Greywind!” the son of Lord Eddard Stark shouted at his wolf. She knew from Tommen that all the Stark children had a Direwolf of their own, _even the bastard_ he had added in a hushed tone. _Do you think father would let us have a stag each? Or a lion?_ He had asked her eagerly, a memory which made her smile even now as she patted the little wolf in front of her gently.

“I am so sorry, my Princess,” Robb Stark apologized, pulling his companion away from her. “He doesn’t usually do that,”

“It’s quite alright my Lord, please don’t restrain him, he did me no harm,” Myrcella smiled, her reaction surprised him she noted as he smiled back at her, letting Greywind go. Robb straightened his stance and Myrcella rose to her feet, watching where the wolf had run off too. “Is he usually this curious?”

“Aye, like his master it would seem. Kings Landing is a strange place and I thought to do some exploring while I let him stretch his legs,” he told her freely, his eyes joining hers. “Perhaps you’d care to join me, Princess?” he added lightly.

“I’d like that my lord,” she took his offered arm as they walked through the gardens. Conversation seemed to flow easily between them, as Robb told her of how they had found their Direwolf pups one day hunting in the Godswood.

"The Direwolf had been killed by the antlers of a stag. It was a huge creature, almost as big as our horses!" he told her animatedly. "I've never seen anything like it before. There were five pups originally, until Jon had found another not far off from the rest of the litter. Greywind is very smart, he is the biggest of all his brother’s and sister’s.”

“Truly?” she asked, for she had never seen such a beast and thought that the Direwolves never ventured beyond the Wall.

“Aye, truly princess,” he smiled at her, knowing that if she doubted his story she was still polite enough to go along with it for his sake.

Robb found he quite enjoyed the little moment they were sharing, whilst walking astride her, she was quiet and he could just look and marvel at her beauty. Cersei Lannister may have been named the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, but he wagered that her daughter would beat her for that title. The princess had the same ethereal beauty like her mother, but she didn’t carry the spite in her eyes. He found himself gravitating towards her, gazing at her, and it wasn’t until she had spoken again which snapped him out of his daze.

“I think you’ve called me _Princess_ on this walk more then what anyone else has for this entire year,” Myrcella had spoken casually, though Robb took her very seriously.

“How are you usually addressed Princess?” the confusion written on his face which only made her laugh in return.

“By my name,” they had stopped now, humour laced in with her next question. “Do you know what that is? My lord Robb,” He liked the sound of his name on her lips, and it made him want to kiss her, though without being brazen towards the princess, he opted for the lesser approach.

“How could I forget?” he told her and her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. Robb picked a flower from the garden and tucked it in her hair, “Myrcella, the Queen of Love and Beauty,” was his new name for her, and when he kissed her hand goodbye, his lips lingered longer then what they should have.

For a moment she had just been Myrcella and he had just been Robb, and it was a moment that was rare for her. She was always the princess first, but Robb appeared to treat her like a normal girl, and for that she was moved. Myrcella was disappointed when his name was called by two other men his age who she knew to be Northerner’s but Myrcella had not been introduced to when they arrived at Kings Landing.

For the rest of the afternoon her thoughts remained on Robb Stark. Myrcella had been thrilled when she had been told by her hand maiden they were to dine with the Stark’s that night as she prepared her bath. She knew she was of the same age as his younger sister, and she feared that he wouldn’t see her the way she wanted to be seen in his eyes. Myrcella picked her favourite pink dress that resembled the styles that the ladies wore in Dorne and painted her lips to match her dress. Her blonde curls wove down her back as her handmaiden braided the front of her hair which resembled the way she wore it today, putting the flower Robb had picked in her hair. She tried very hard to make it seem as though she effortlessly put all of her attire together, and she laughed to herself for she had never tried this hard to impress anyone.

“He must be some man to make you smile like that Princess,” her handmaiden winked, giving her a knowing look as she turned too laced up the back of her dress. Myrcella mock rolled her eyes at her handmaiden and thanked her when there was a knock on the door.

Joffrey looked bored as he waited for her, the Hound shadowing him. Myrcella thanked the gods that Sandor Clegane had been there, and she never thought she would ever find herself wishing such a thing. Joffrey hands never wandered where they shouldn’t, but that didn’t stop his eyes that looked over her body now. _Mother says I am to escort you,_ he held out his arm for her to take as he led her to their father’s chambers. Myrcella felt awkward being in her father’s chambers, as she hadn’t been in them since she was very young, since her parents shared living quarters. But since their marriage soured and Cersei had been given her own rooms, the children and even Cersei were not permitted to go in there, as they were not to know of what went on behind its closed doors. Since then – after Tommen was born – Myrcella was sure her father had never bedded her mother. She was under no false pretences that they loved each other.

Pushing those thoughts into the back of her mind, it appeared that she and Joffrey were late and all eyes were on them. Myrcella felt the heat rush to her face when she saw  _his_ eyes on her, his mouth slightly agape. Robb rose and pulled out her chair, and as she thanked him and sat to his right, she could have sworn she saw a look pass between her father and Lord Eddard. The evening had been uneventful, until Joffrey had commented on the weed in her hair and japed that she looked like an urchin from Flea Bottom, but even that couldn’t spoil her mood when Robb had asked her to walk with him once more. Though she told her mother she would head straight to her room, her behaviour was risky and she felt as though she had been corrupted, knowing she had disobeyed the Queen which was so unlike her, and knew she could be caught at any moment which made it all the more sweeter. Robb had taken her to a stone courtyard that over looked Kings Landing. She could see the Sept of Baelor and Blackwater Bay, with the moon’s light reflecting on it. Kings Landing was beautiful at night she decided. Myrcella hadn’t noticed that Robb was staring down at her as she was leaning on the balcony, his position now mirroring her own, his eyes never wavering.

“You’re still wearing it.” He noted, as he touched the flower in her hair, and if it wasn’t so dark out, she knew he would have seen her blush.

“Of course, it’s beautiful.” Myrcella assured him, smiling. His hand stayed in her hair and didn’t know where to look for his face was so close to hers. _Too close,_ she reasoned. _No, not close enough._ As she argued inwardly with herself, Robb noticed the worry in her eyes and knew he had overstepped his bounds. He offered the Princess his arm as he escorted her back to her rooms, kicking himself that he had scared her off.

Myrcella dreamt that night of being chased in the woods by an unknown pursuer. She saw flashes of grey in the trees and felt the wind knocked out of her as she was pushed to the ground. As she was turned on her back, she was ready to defend herself against her mysterious pursuer raising her arms to hit his face, but he had pinned her arms above her head. She was met with the face of Robb Stark, his Tully blue eyes gazing into her own he smiled wickedly at her. Myrcella tried to tug her arms free but he wouldn’t let her, as he leant down to what she thought was whisper in her ear, but he bit lightly on her ear instead, smiling at the effect it had on her. He kissed and sucked on the skin of her neck and collarbone, his lips travelling down as he kissed the top of her exposed breasts. This was all that she had wanted, but it still was not enough and no matter how much she tried, her arms remained restrained, and he never kissed her, and _oh_ how badly she wanted to be completely ravished by those sweet Northern lips.

After her dream, she could never look Robb again, and she adverted her eyes when he would look her way. She only meant to hide the flush of her cheeks, but he hadn’t tried to approach her again, which made Myrcella feel awful. She thought that perhaps Robb had liked her, but she knew now not to be so foolish. How could he ever look at someone so much younger then him? Perhaps he thought of her as a child and nothing more. _Perhaps he did see me as normal girl, and not a woman worthy enough of his affections._ Myrcella had begun to train more frequently with her uncle, and one evening while she had just finished practising, she had all but bumped into Robb and his companions in the hall way of the Keep. She had tried to be secretive about her training and knew that it was apparent about what she had been doing as the men stood before her, where she wore her tunic and breeches, her hair in a messy braid down her back and she supported her left arm which her uncle said she might have sprained.

“Princess?” Robb asked her incredulously, “What are you doing?” he staggered as he held her arms but let her go when she stepped back, defensive.

“Nothing,” she retorted. Changing the subject, she looked to his companions. “I’m sorry, I’ve seen you both before, but we’ve never been introduced.” She smiled at the men behind Robb, who she was ignoring entirely.

“Who have you been fighting?” Robb interrupted her before the others had the opportunity to introduce themselves and he pointed to her arm. “You’re hurt, I’ll take you to the maester,”

“You don’t–” She started, but he already taken her elbow and walked in the direction he just came. Myrcella saw the fair haired man raise his brows at Robb’s odd behaviour, and she felt mortified at being treated in such a way. _Poor little princess with her injured wing,_ she thought, _whatever will we do?_

“I’m fine we don’t need to go to the maester,” she tried, before she came to a halt. “At least let me change before we see him! If he saw me in these clothes he will tell my Mother,” 

Robb took his arm off of hers. “So she doesn’t know that you’ve been fighting?” confusion knitted between his brows.

“I wasn’t fighting anyone,” she bit back, defensive again. _No one can know of Uncle Jaime, or it will stop once Mother finds out, just when I’m starting to be good._ “Why do you care anyway?

“What do you mean?” he asked, seemingly unawares.

Myrcella huffed, her annoyance getting the better of her. _Must he make me say it?_ She looked away before he saw her tears began to surface. She looked at the blue sky out the window, no clouds were in sight. She looked at the sun as it shone brightly. She looked _anywhere_ but at him.

“Myrcella?” Robb pulled her face to look at him, his face inches from her own. She pulled her head back slightly, for surely he could see the water in her eyes? “Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” she began, feeling awkward. “Why didn’t you introduce your friends to me? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” She thought of the last part and wish she hadn’t said it as he laughed.

“I didn’t want to introduce you to Theon Greyjoy because he is an arse,” she knew he was trying to be funny and she smiled genuinely. “The other is Jon, my half-brother.” She should have known, Jon looked so much like Ned Stark, Myrcella felt foolish for not putting two and two together. “Now will you tell me?” Robb looked at her with such innocent eyes; she didn’t know how to refuse.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she all but whispered, hoping he didn’t hear her. He looked at her, but thought for a moment before he answered.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to seek you out,” he shrugged. “You’re the princess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” _It could mean anything._

“It means why would you want the company of some Northern savage lord’s son when there are other's more worthy of your time," 

“I don’t think you’re a Northern savage!” She thought quite the opposite actually, having dreamt of his lips, but he didn’t need to know that information, nor did anyone else for that matter. "And you are more than worthy Robb. Why would you think such things?"

“Your brother seems to think so, and your mother.” Robb told her lightly as he looked at his feet, embarrassed to be so open with her.

“I don’t care what they think,” she said honestly, and he looked to her face. “They think fighting is for boys and well, I obviously don’t hold that opinion either,” she nodded at her choice of clothing. “We don’t always agree on everything.”

He scoffed, shaking his head at the princess “So you don’t think I am some loud, foul-mouthed barbarian?” Humour laced in his voice.

“No my lord, that my family and I do agree on,” Myrcella told him, playing along.

Robb laughed hard then, and she decided she quite liked that sound. “So I guess you forgive my cowardice from the other night in the garden?” _Oh god, oh god. Yes. Yes. Yes._ She opted for the smoother approach though, nodding at him and he took her hand. _“_ I guess not all Southern Ladies are the same,” he was so close now she could feel his breath on her face, his blue eyes staring down at her.

“You forget yourself my Lord, for I am no Southern Lady! I am a Princess,” Myrcella reminded him, and Robb was at a loss for words. _She really is something._

They stood there silent for some time, words were not needed. She looked from his eyes to his lips. Myrcella knew what she wanted, what she needed. She reached out to touch his lips which were warm and rough beneath her nimble fingers. Robb brought her closer then, touching her cheek, giving her time to back out if this wasn’t what she wanted, but only if he could read her mind would he know her wicked thoughts. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him closer, and Robb wrapped his arms her waist and brought her body against his. Her heart was racing as he bent down to kiss her. _Finally._


End file.
